Rich credits the Central Synagogue Hebrew School in New York for forcing him to study Torah: "They failed to turn me into an observant Jew, but succeeded in turning me into a comedy writer." A provocatively fine one too, if this divine satire is anything to go by. Craig is a low-ranking angel labouring in the miracles division of heaven – a sprawling corporate campus of dormitories and snack bars, where he works hard engineering minor coincidences and influencing sports results. But he has never come close to God, who sits locked away in the CEO's suite, flicking through religious channels and fretting about the numbers ("Your numbers are fantastic," a toadying archangel assures him: "85% of humans worship you in some way"). The narrative can be a little strained – the fate of mankind depends on a romantic comedy played out by a pair of introverted New Yorkers too timid to ask each other out – but it's easy to believe in a God who has never read a single prayer, let alone answered one. "He has some big ideas," Craig reasons, "but he's never been much of a details guy."